Page 27 of Chasing Amber

Standing alone in my bathroom, I lower one strap of my bra down my bicep and drag a finger along the lace edge on the upper swell of my breast. Slipping my finger under the lace to flick my nipple, I gasp. What would it feel like to have Isaac do this? To have Isaac look at me with that intensity in his eyes while he explores my body?

I lower the other strap next and grasp the edge of the vanity with one hand to steady myself as I let my mind wander to places it should not go. It’s so easy to close my eyes and pretend it’s Isaac touching me. He’s breathing heavily, and so am I. He’s staring at my chest as he lowers the cups of my bra until the heavy globes pop free. He’s not in Daddy mode. He’s looking at me like a man hungrily eyes a woman.

I have to release the vanity to cup both breasts and thumb my nipples. It’s not me, though, it’s him. Stroking, teasing, flicking until I’m panting and desperate. From nipple play. Who knew I could get aroused from nipple play? So much so that my panties are wet.

“Legs open,”he growls.

I startle at the sound of his voice, so real in my head. So real that I jerk my gaze toward the door to make sure I truly did imagine it. I half expect to find him standing there, but he’s not. He won’t come in here. There’s no way.

Breathing heavily, I remove my bra and panties, but the visual doesn’t stop. I’m shaking as I close my eyes again and let myself go back into the daydream.

Isaac is still staring at me, waiting for me to part my legs, and I do so. It causes me to shudder. The air in the room hits my pussy, making me hyper-aware of my need.

“Pinch your nipples, baby,”he orders in a deep, sexy voice I’m not familiar with—a voice I’ve conjured.

I do as I’m told, arching my chest at the bite of pain. It’s my fantasy, so I’ll have him order me to do whatever feels good.

“Slide one hand down to your pussy, baby.”

I lower my hand and cup myself.

“Good girl. Drag a finger through your folds.”As soon as I’ve done so, he orders,“Show me. Show me your wetness.”

I lift my finger as if he’s standing in front of me.

“Good girl. Suck it. Taste yourself.”

I hesitate. My mind is racing with ideas, getting ahead of me. Do I really want to follow through with this and taste my pussy? My thoughts are so naughty.

I bring my finger to my lips and suck. My taste is mild. Not as salty as I expected.

“Good girl. Touch your pussy again, Amber.”The way he says my name gives me goosebumps.

I whimper as I touch myself again. This time, I circle my clit.

“So sexy, baby. Push that finger up inside you. Just the one. I don’t want you to stretch your cunt. I want it to be nice and tight when I enter you.”

I sway forward and have to release my breast to keep from falling. I grab the vanity, white-knuckling it as I push my middle finger into my pussy. I wonder if Isaac would really use filthy words likecunt. The dirty talk in my head is so sexy.

I’m tight because it’s been a very long time since anyone has touched me, including myself. There’s a vibrator in my nightstand, but it’s the discreet kind that’s meant to be pressed against my clit. I’ve never owned one that goes inside me. Maybe I should order one.

The idea is preposterous, though. There’s no way I could receive a package and get it past Isaac without him seeing it. Maybe I could tell him I’m expecting paints or brushes or something, and he could just hand it to me when it arrives. He wouldn’t open something so boring.

Except he would.

He opens everything in order to ensure nothing dangerous is delivered. I’m sure Spence told him to a long time ago.

I push my finger deeper, letting my palm grind against my clit until my knees start shaking. I’ve never tried to orgasm standing up. I might collapse. The idea of sitting on the cold tile doesn’t appeal to me, but I glance at the toilet and decide that’s my best option.

Removing my finger, I lower the toilet seat and sit.

“Legs wide, Amber. Let me see your pretty cunt.”

It’s amazing how fast I return to the daydream. I let my head fall back as I fuck myself with one finger while the other strokes my clit. I’m on my tiptoes, bracing myself. It’s still not ideal. I hope I don’t fall to one side. I don’t need to hit my head again today. How would I explain myself?

“Is your clit swollen, baby?”

“Yes,” I breathe out to the empty room.

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